


Your Bedtime Lullaby

by sinemoras09



Category: Le Fantôme de l'Opéra | Phantom of the Opera & Related Fandoms
Genre: Cuddling & Snuggling, F/M, Fluff, Happy Sex, Morning Kisses, Mutual Masturbation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-10-27
Updated: 2008-10-27
Packaged: 2018-04-11 14:23:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,942
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4438862
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sinemoras09/pseuds/sinemoras09
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The whole of it, he had to admit, was rather embarrassing. (Erik falls asleep in Christine's bed. Fluff. Erik/Christine, AU)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Your Bedtime Lullaby

As far as stalking went, Erik was rather skilled.

Well. It was a pitiful affair, the whole of it, and if Erik were to admit it to himself, the whole thing was rather embarrassing.

And so it was that Erik found himself in Christine's room, watching her sleep and feeling absolutely sorry for himself. His Christine always looked so peaceful when she was asleep. She breathed softly, her hands curled up by her face. Erik himself had not slept more than a few hours the night before, and it was a fitful sleep at best. He was worried she would not come back. But she came and there she was, sleeping in his mother's bed.

She looked so warm.

Now Erik _really_ felt sorry for himself. How long has it been since he has slept in any place else besides his cold, dank coffin? And how long will it be before he could find that sort of peace Christine so obviously felt?

Christine breathed, and as she did, her lips parted a little. 

It wouldn't hurt, Erik mused. Christine was a deep sleeper. Tentatively, he pressed down the side of the mattress and waited for Christine's reaction. There was none. He pushed again, watching her body move slightly as the mattress dipped, but Christine slept on. 

It wouldn't hurt, Erik thought. Just this once...

Gingerly, Erik climbed in beside her, making sure to keep a respectful few inches between their two bodies. His mask chaffed - as a rule Erik never slept with his mask, especially in the safety of his own home - but he would not remove it, for fear of Christine waking up. The last thing he would need was to see his Angel waking up and screaming at the sight of his face. That would be problematic. 

Christine sighed, and shifted her weight. Even though they were not touching, he could feel the warmth of the mattress from where she had been lying. The pillows were soft; the blankets beneath him were even softer. It had been several days since Erik got a proper night's sleep, and Christine's bed just felt so _warm_.

The mask notwithstanding, he had never felt so comfortable in his entire life.

Sleep took him then; Erik sighed softly, and closed his eyes.

 

****

 

The first thing Erik was aware of, when he blearily started to wake, was how warm Christine felt. His arm was draped luxuriously around Christine's waist and his face was pressed buried against her hair. She stirred, and Erik nuzzled against her, pressing a sleepy kiss against her jaw. 

Wait. What was he doing? 

Erik was horrified. 

Christine was still asleep. She probably thought it was Raoul spooning her, hence the lack of shrieking. Eyes wide, Erik gingerly extricated himself away from Christine's body, pushing himself upright and, with difficulty, climbing out of the bed. At the same time, Christine sighed, then turned. Reflexively her hand went where Erik had been lying and clutched at the pillow beside hers.

At turns depressed and absolutely thankful she hadn't woken up, Erik retired to his bedchamber. His coffin remained propped open and utterly uninviting. 

Was this his fate? To be alone, to utterly repulse and horrify the one woman he loved? All he wanted now was to continue lying next to her, to hold her without fear of her waking up. A sort of loneliness gripped him then, a loneliness mixed with shame, because only a monster would sneak in and forcibly lie beside its victim.

Erik didn't sleep that night. He paced the floor, then went to his room, alone.

 

*****

 

They argued the next day. It was time for Christine to head back up to the surface, and as a matter of course, Erik could not keep his temper.

"Why?" Erik said. "Why must you leave _now_? You have only just gotten here."

"My Angel..." Chrstine's eyes dimmed. "You said so yourself. Any longer and the management will get suspicious. You said I should come and go as I please."

"And so it pleases you to leave me, your poor Erik, alone?"

It was a familiar argument, and a depressing one. The fight would always turn into the same: _I, whom you will refuse to touch. You, who do not love me. Why must you hurt me like this? Why must you taunt me so?_

The argument reached a fever pitch. "Do you know how it makes me feel, knowing how you tremble when I touch your hand?" Erik asked. "All I want is to touch you, Christine. All I want is what any man would want..."

"And what would that be?" Christine asked. Her chin jutted out, defiantly. 

"To be loved." Erik's voice was tremulous. "And yet you refuse."

It ended as it always did: "Erik! This is maddening! I told you I don't _care_ , if you would just take off your mask--"

"What? So I could see the revulsion in your eyes?"

"So that I would know you trust me!" 

It was irrational. The whole thing was irrational. But in matters of the heart, Erik couldn't help himself.

Christine disappeared onto the surface, leaving Erik a quivering mess. But that was just the way these things went. As precise as the blocking of a play, in fact. 

 

*****

 

Six nights passed before Christine met with him again. There were dark circles under her eyes and her hair was a bedraggled mess, and Erik could only surmise that she was forcing herself to be with him. Utterly pained at the thought, he rowed her across the river in silence, brooding quietly at what the possibilities would be.

They entered his lair without a word, Christine following him like a shadow down the hall. "You haven't slept," Christine said. Erik looked back at her warily.

"Sleep is a luxury for which I have little need," Erik said. "I'm quite sure you've noticed."

"Yes, but..." Christine hesitated. "You seem more fatigued than usual," she said. 

Erik fought the urge to weep, then shrugged an elegant little shrug. "I suppose," Erik said. "I worry when you are away. It keeps me up at night."

"I see." Christine watched him with measured eyes. "Erik--"

"Christine. Why must you persist with this infernal line of questioning?" Erik said. "I have already told you: it is none of your concern."

"But Erik--"

"Why must you insist on humiliating me like this?" Erik breathed hard. "I know I am little more than a dog to you, Christine. A pathetic, worthless dog, whom you take delight in beating!"

"You have no right," Christine said.

"I have every right!" Erik said. "I love you, you _know_ I love you, I would die a hundred times over just to be with you, and yet you continue your dalliances with the Vicomte! Don't think I don't know," Erik said. "I saw you with him last night."

"You are impossible!" Christine said. She pulled off the ring and threw it at Erik's feet. "I already told you," Christine said. "He means _nothing_ to me. And you are so insufferable, Erik! You make it difficult to love you."

The first reaction Erik had was hurt; it sliced through him like a knife in his heart. 

Then he replayed the sentence.

 _You make it difficult to love you_. 

Difficult as in she loved him, but he made it difficult. 

...difficult, as in, _she loved him._

Erik's mind spun.

But before Erik could say anything, Christine left and slammed the door.

 

*****

 

Christine loved him. And now he had driven her away.

Erik wept, bitterly. He was such a fool.

 

*****

 

Morning broke. Though there was no real light to speak of, Erik knew it was morning when Christine finally emerged from her bedchamber. Her eyes were red and her face was blotchy, and Erik knew at once she had spent the night crying. He never hated himself more than he did at that moment. 

"Tea?" Erik asked. He rather hoped it didn't sound too incongruent.

Christine nodded, weakly. "Thank you," she said. Quietly Erik rose, and began lighting the samovar. When the tea was ready, he poured a small cup and handed it to her. Their fingers brushed. Tears sprang to Erik's eyes as he pulled his hand away.

"Erik." Christine watched him, silently. "Why are we like this?" she asked.

"I don't know," Erik said. And in truth, he didn't.

Christine fiddled with her cup, then set it down on the end table before folding her hands in her lap. "I think we are just tired," Christine said. Erik watched her, warily. 

"How so?" Erik asked.

"We are tired and irritable," Christine said. "You haven't slept and neither have I, and both of us have been on edge." She traced the rim of her cup, absently. "I know you've been sleeping next to me," Christine said.

"What?"

"Erik," Christine looked at him, levelly. "You woke me up that night," Christine said. "Did you honestly think I wouldn't know?" Her eyes were gentle. "I woke up with your arms around me. I was shocked at first, but you felt so warm..."

"But..." Erik's head spun. "You were asleep," Erik said. 

"I told you, I woke up."

"But you were asleep when I left."

"Because I fell back asleep," Christine said. 

_Oh_.

Erik flushed, suddenly. "My apologies," Erik said. He started to stand, but Christine grasped his arm. 

Her hand was warm over the fabric of his sleeve. Erik stared at her, then sat back down. "Christine..."

"I think we should take a nap," Christine said. 

"What?"

"A nap," Christine said. She was still holding his arm. Tentatively, he felt her scoot closer. "I think it would be nice, don't you? It would certainly make us less irritable."

Erik stared, uncomprehending. "You're asking me to...to lie with you?" he asked. Christine blushed.

"I am an honest woman," Christine said. "And I intend to remain that way until the night of our wedding." Her eyes flicked upwards. "Though....I do not see the harm in sharing a bed. Especially since we have already shared it once."

Erik was dizzy. "Our wedding," Erik said. Her hand curled on top of his.

"Yes," Christine said. She was blushing even harder.

 

******

 

Sleeping beside Christine Daae was rather awkward. All night, Erik was self-conscious about accidentally touching her, and when Christine firmly pulled him against her, there was the problem of his mask scraping against his face. "You should take it off," Christine murmured. She was already half asleep.

"I don't want to startle you when you wake," Erik said. Christine made a small noise, something between irritation and amusement, and she rolled over and unceremoniously plucked the mask off his face.

Erik was too stunned to react, because she had draped one glorious leg around his hip. "Better," Christine said, and she pressed a sleepy kiss to Erik's face.

Well. Erik decided it wasn't that bad; it was dark enough in the room that his features would remain at least partially obscured. 

Erik's breathing began to slow. Christine felt so warm, a comforting weight against his chest. He felt her drift off. Gently he shook her arm.

"Mmm?" she cuddled, sleepily.

"Is it true?" Erik asked, softly. He touched the side of her cheek. "That it's difficult to love me. Is it true?"

Christine answered by kissing him on the crook of his neck and sleepily burying her face against his shoulder.

"Christine." Erik stroked her hair. "Then does that mean you love me? Truly love me?"

"Go to sleep," Christine said.

"Christine this is important." Erik's eyes were burning. "I need to know the truth."

Christine answered by flopping her entire body on top of his, her arms and legs limp like a ragdolls. She planted a small kiss on the side of his jaw and breathed in, deeply. "You're silly," she murmured, and then fell asleep.

Well. It was good enough.

 

*****

 

Christine was right: the nap _was_ refreshing. Erik woke up smiling into Christine's hair. He couldn't even remember why he felt so much angst. He was just supremely happy. 

Christine breathed in, then rolled over to face Erik, draping a leg around his hip and pulling him closer. "Good morning," she said. She bumped her nose into Erik's neck.

"Mmm. A good morning indeed." Erik shifted her weight against his chest, stroking her back. Christine smiled, then lifted her face to kiss him, gently. Their mouths parted a little, and Erik could feel Christine's tongue slip into his mouth. Before they knew it, they were kissing deeply now, Erik's hand on Christine's face and rolling her over...

Erik was hard.

"Christine!" Erik's face reddened. Then he realized he wasn't wearing his mask. He threw his hand over his face, shoving a pillow into his lap. 

"What's wrong?" Christine was the picture of perfect innocence. 

"I'm--" Erik gritted his teeth. Christine leaned over and tried to pull out the pillow.

"Christine! What are you doing?"

"I want to see."

"Christine! We can't--"

"I'm just curious--"

" _Don't_."

It was just like the unmasking, but worse. Erik could feel the blood rush up to his face as he simultaneously cursed his wicked body for betraying him so acutely. Meanwhile, Christine stared at him, transfixed. Her pupils dilated a little; he could hear a little hitch in her breath. 

" _Christine!_ " Erik nearly jumped out of his skin when the damnable woman wrapped her clever fingers around him and...and _stroked_ him. 

"Woman, are you _mad_?" Erik asked. 

"I'm just curious," Christine said.

"But we aren't... _unh_...married." Erik's breath grew jagged as Christine's thumb ghosted over the head of his penis. The fabric of his pants scraped painfully, but instinctively he pushed his hips up into her hand. To his horror, a small wet spot formed through the fabric. "Christine, I don't think this is a particularly good idea," Erik said. He felt her tug at his waistband. "Christine! Just... _unh_..."

He felt her mouth close around him, and his muscles tightened. 

It was too much, the sensation. The pressure was building, but he didn't want it to end. "Christine." His voice was pleading. "Please...I want to see you."

There was a soft popping sound when Christine pulled up, and Erik pulled her forward. "Take this off," Erik said.

"What?"

"You started it," Erik said, and he flipped her over.

Christine's nightgown fell unceremoniously to the ground. 

Christine was beautiful. Skin the color of ivory, two perfect breasts and two perfect pink nipples under his hands. Erik dipped down and kissed them both, taking a nipple into his mouth and lavishing it with attention. Christine groaned, and Erik swept his tongue around each perfect bud. His erection pressed gently against her thigh, and Christine groaned again, moving her hips until she was grinding her sex against him.

"You little _minx_." Erik gasped, somewhat shocked by Christine's wanton behavior. His erection pressed against her clit, and he could feel Christen's hips twitch against his. "I thought....not until our wedding night," Erik said, breathlessly.

Christine breathed against his neck. "I think we're already married," Christine said. 

"So you're still an honest woman?" Erik's erection slid up against Christine's clit a second time, making her gasp.

"I..yes." Christine panted, softly. "Erik...please..."

"This is your doing, you know." Erik pulled up a bit, leaving Christine feeling bereft. "Honor demands I return the favor."

Erik's fingers delicately probed her entrance, making Christine sigh, softly. He dipped down, then gave an experimental lick on her clitoris. Christine's hips jerked. Pleased, Erik pressed down again, his mouth flush against her middle. Christine gave out a little gasp. Her hands flailed a little, then settled on the crown of his head. He nursed her clitoris gently, until he felt her start to tense....

Then he pulled back again, leaving Christine looking visibly frustrated. "Erik..."

"It's your punishment," Erik said, lightly, and he slid his hips against hers, his erection sliding up against her clit. He moved to her entrance, pushed in just a little, then pulled out again, his erection gently slapping against her thigh.

"Erik, _please_." Her voice was a low whine. 

"Please, what?"

"I don't know..." Christine looked positively flustered. Erik grinned.

"Stop teasing me!" Christine said. Erik laughed. She smacked him lightly on the arm. Her eyes were smiling. "You know what I want..."

Erik knelt down wickedly. "I want you to say it."

"You're awful!"

"Say it," Erik said, and he kissed the side of her face.

Christine looked up at him, her hand on his flank. "I love you," Christine said. Erik stopped. It slammed him like a bag of bricks. 

"Christine," Erik said.

"I love you," Christine said, and she reached out and touched his face.

Tears sprang to Erik's eyes. "Christine...."

And he felt himself go soft, much to his humiliation. 

She would stay an honest woman after all. 

Damn.

 

*****

 

There are absolutely few things more humiliating than being caught naked and crying. 

Strike that: naked, crying, and without a mask.

Christine didn't seem to mind, though. The woman was surprisingly tolerant when it came to these things.

 

*****

 

Even though he was still technically a virgin, despite their experience earlier, Erik couldn't imagine a better feeling than lying in Christine's arms. She felt so soft and warm, and when she nuzzled against his chest, he felt nothing but peace.

She later took his virginity by force, climbing onto his lap and forcing herself on top of him. "Oh! Christine!"

When he rolled her onto her back, it was as if heaven and earth collided. "Erik that is terribly cliche," Christine said. She was already half asleep.

"But Christine! To feel your embrace, to bury myself in your heat--"

"Mmm?"

"Christine." Erik's eyes glittered. "I would plunder your depths a thousand times over."

"Erik that sounds disgusting."

Erik sighed. This damnable woman. He loved her so much.

 

*****

 

Erik couldn't help but feel a little embarrassed when Christine saw the wedding dress for the first time. "This _fits_ ," Christine said. She twirled around in the mirror, regarding her reflection. "Erik. How on earth did you know my size?"

"Woman, you let me hold you every night, don't you think I can come up with a good enough estimate of your form?"

"Yes, but..." Christine grinned, wickedly. "You bought this before we were together."

Erik flushed. Christine stood on tip-toe, her hands lightly pressing against his chest. "Tell me," Christine breathed, huskily. "Did you used to spy on me?"

"Christine..."

"Watch me, all alone, in my dressing room. Naked. _Vulnerable_."

"I would rather not talk about it," Erik said, stiffly. Christine's hands flew to her mouth.

"Oh my god, you _did_ ," Christine said. Erik sighed. Christine laughed, hugging him. "My poor Erik," Christine said. She kissed the side of his face. "And tell me," Christine said, wickedly. "Did you ever... _pleasure_ yourself? Watching me behind the mirror?"

Erik stared at her, darkly. She was teasing him, but she didn't know about those lonely nights. How he would lurk in the shadows, dutifully memorizing every curve, every line of her body. How, in rare moments of weakness, he would succumb to his arousal and touch himself, feeling empty and disgusted with himself the moment it was over. 

"Erik?" Christine looked worried. She wrapped her arms around his waist. "I was just teasing you. What's wrong?"

"Christine." Erik could feel his throat tighten. "It is exactly as you said," Erik said. Christine's eyes widened, slightly. "I am sorry," Erik said. "I was weak. And it makes me feel ashamed."

Christine hugged him, tight. "Don't feel ashamed," Christine said. Her eyes flicked upwards toward his. "I used to touch myself, thinking about you," she said, shyly. 

Erik stared. "Really?"

Christine nodded against his shirtfront. "Thinking about your voice. I'd imagine you coming down from heaven and....and taking me." Now Christine was blushing. "But now we can touch each other," Christine said, and she kissed him lightly. She fluffed his hair and smiled. "Don't be sad, Erik," Christine said. She gripped his hand, tightly. "I'm not."

"Yes..." Erik's eyes dimmed. They held each other tight for a long time after.

 

*****

 

They were about to make love when Christine whispered in his ear.

"I want to see you touch yourself," Christine said. Her cheeks were completely red.

Erik stared at her. "Why?"

"Because...." Christine gestured, helplessly. "Because the last time you did, you were all alone by that mirror. And...and I don't like that being your last memory. I want you to think of me." She dipped down and kissed him. "I want you to remember how happy you make me."

Erik was hard already, but acutely embarrassed. "Christine..."

"I can touch myself, too." Christine's eyes glittered. Already her hand was snaking down between her legs. "Just thinking about you makes me...you know..."

"Okay..." Erik undid his pants, then freed his erection. Christine's eyes widened slightly. She leaned against his chest, her own fingers against her clit. "Mmm..."

"Christine." He watched, transfixed, as Christine arched her back, rubbing herself towards release. She writhed and moaned and buried her face against his bare chest, and Erik only managed a few uneven pumps before he climaxed, smearing semen between their naked bodies. 

After they cleaned and washed themselves, they lay sated in each other's arms. "I told you it was a good idea," Christine said, and kissed him lightly on the cheek.

 

******

 

The wedding was a small one, just Christine and the priest and Nadir to witness. Initially, the Daroga still had a tough time believing Christine would ever love a man like Erik, but Christine took it upon herself to convince him. She cornered him, unannounced as he was stalking Erik's home, and invited him inside. 

After the wedding, Erik surprised Christine with a small flat just a few blocks away from the Opera House. He carried her inside, bridal style, Christine laughing with her arms around her neck, and the neighbors wondering out loud about that strange man's mask.

 

*****

 

Even with Christine by his side, Erik still couldn't overcome the need to use his mask.

One disastrous evening, they ventured outside, Erik maskless and gripping Christine's hand, tight. They were met with horrified stares and hushed whispers, until finally Christine snapped and yelled at all of them, making a terrible scene.

Needless to say, Erik was content to wear his mask outside. So long as Christine didn't mind, anyway.

 

*****

 

Christine was kissing his face again, her tongue tracing the jagged edge of one of his scars. 

"Christine?" 

Christine looked up. She had been lying on top of Erik, her elbows resting on either side of Erik's face. "What is it?" Christine asked. She gently stroked the side of his cheek.

"How are you not revolted?" Erik asked. Christine frowned.

"Revolted by what?"

"By _this_." Erik motioned to his mismatched eyes. Christine smiled softly, then touched his cheek lightly with her fingertips.

"I like your face." Christine kissed him again. "You're so much more sensitive here. Probably from always wearing that mask. I like how you shiver when I touch you there."

"I see," Erik said, and Christine kissed him again. 

Sometimes it was better not to question these things.

 

*****

 

There is something to be said about living a quiet life. _A boring life_ , Christine once teased, but Erik didn't mind.

They still had fights. He still (sometimes) was insecure. They made up and made love and started all over again.

That night, Erik crept beside Christine, who was asleep and swollen with their first child. Gently he pressed against her, draping an arm around her waist. 

She sighed, and he held her just a little bit tighter.


End file.
